


Tom Jones Eat Your Heart Out

by Amateum



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Bets, Chat Noir's Iron Stomach, Crack. This is Pure crack, F/M, Fluff, Humor, I'm Sorry, Poor Marinette, Singing, Teen only because of one cuss word, Tom jones - Freeform, Too many croissants, pre-reveal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-31
Updated: 2017-03-31
Packaged: 2018-10-13 10:36:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,502
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10512024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Amateum/pseuds/Amateum
Summary: Marinette makes a bet with Chat Noir.And loses.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I swear this is a real song

Marinette peeked out from behind the backstage curtains, scanning the crowd. Then, remembering that this was Chat Noir she was looking for, who would not be amongst the crowd, she scanned the nearby rooftops, stepping back behind the curtain after finding nothing. It meant little, anyway. The crowd would get a little distracted if they saw one of Paris’ heroes, after all.

“Hero,” She grumbled _. “_ More like my own personal nightmare.”

A loud round of applause interrupted Marinette’s thoughts.

_Oh no._

“And that was Juleka, playing Fairy Dance on the flute!” said Nino walking next to a now curtsying Juleka. Being the MC for the school talent show wasn’t quite the same as DJ-ing, but he was allowed to play music during intermission, opening, and exit, and Nino jumped at the chance for even a modicum of experience.

“Please welcome now to the stage, Marinette Dupain-Cheng!” A round of applause from the surrounding schoolkids greeted Marinette as she walked nervously on to stage, guitar hanging across her torso by a strap.

A soft chuckle spread throughout the crowd as they caught sight of Marinette’s outfit.

 _Yeah, yeah, laugh it up,_ she thought, imagining the look that was probably on Chat’s face right now. Marinette wore an almost perfect replica Chat Noir costume, the only changes being that it was made for a female and the tail was made of proper faux-fur, rather than a belt because “You may be able to pull it off, Chat, but on everyone else, it looks tacky.”

The final touch were the whiskers scrawled in eyeliner on her face, completing her total and utter humiliation.

Marinette was going to _punch_ Chat Noir _in his stupid gloating face_ the next time she saw him. Which will probably be right after her performance.

She was looking forward to it.

 _But first…._ she looked at the surrounding crowd, now eagerly awaiting to hear whatever her getup entailed. At least Adrien was out of school that day for a photo shoot.

Small mercies.

She leaned closely to the mike. “Hello, my name is Marinette, and I’ll be playing…well…you’ll know it when you hear it.” She strummed a few chords and turned the pegs for some last minute tuning. She was procrastinating, but, well, anyone would in her situation. Marinette wondered how she got into this predicament in the first place. Oh yes, that’s right. She made a bet with Chat Noir. And lost.

Clearly.

It started innocently enough. There was a miscommunication with a croissant order and the Dupain-Chen bakery ended up with 4 dozen more croissants than they needed that were slowly going stale. Naturally, Marinette mentioned this to Chat during one of his late-night visits to her room.

“…and now they’ll all go to waste!” said Marinette, pacing around her room in front of Chat, who was lounging across her chaise.

“I could eat them for you,” Chat suggested casually.

She looked at him. “Kitty, you could not eat four dozen croissants.”

Chat smirked “You sure about that, Princess?”

Marinette scoffed “I know you have a big stomach, but even you couldn’t scarf down that much bread.”

He sat up, a mischievous gleam in his eyes “You want to bet?”

She tilted her head, a smile matching Chat’s creeping onto her face. “Alright. I’ll bet that you cannot eat all four dozen croissants in one sitting.”

“One sitting?!” Chat blanched. “That’s ridiculous!”

“What,” she stepped closer, “you mean you can’t do it?” She tilted her upper torso, putting her face close to his, “The great Chat Noir is already admitting defeat?”

Chat bristled, ears flattening. Marinette smirked. She had him.

“Two sittings. _And,_ ” he added, before Marinette could interrupt him “I’ll climb up and down the Eiffel Tower twice in between, just to prove my iron stomach.”

“Alright,” she said, disbelief written all over her face. “And if I win, you have to stop making cat puns for a month.”

“A week.”

“Three weeks.”

“Two weeks.”

“Done.”

“And if _I_ win…” he trailed off, thinking. “…you mentioned a school talent show, right?”

“Yeah, it’s next month, why?”

He smiled. Not his usual Chat Noir smirk, or a flirty grin. This smile was full of pure evil and mischief.

Suddenly, Marinette having second thoughts.

 

 

Now looking back, Marinette mentally smacked her past self for ever doubting her partner’s stomach. The sinking feeling she got while watching Chat easily put away the first dozen croissants was nothing on the utter shame she is and will be feeling for years to come from what she’s about to do.

Marinette finished tuning.

She took a deep breath.

She was Ladybug. Ladybug could do anything. Include sing this stupid song for her stupid partner whom she stupidly lost a bet to for his entertainment.

She strummed the opening chords and began to sing:

“What’s new, pussycat, whoah, woah, woah. What’s new, pussycat, whoah whoah whoah….

Pussy cat, pussy cat, I’ve got flowers and lots of hours to spend with you, so go and powder your cute little pussycat nose.” She smirked briefly at the mental image of Chat noir powdering his nose.  “Pussy cat pussy cat, I love you. Yes, I dooo, you and your pussycat nose!” She continued singing, blushing slightly. She was going to _murder. Him._

Repeating the chorus, she scanned the surrounding buildings, hoping to catch a glimpse of the cat himself, partly to distract herself and partly to reassure herself that he was, in fact, watching, and would, therefore, not be forced to repeat this endeavor.

“Pussycat, pussycat, you’re so thrilling and I’m so willing to care for you. So go and make up your cute little pussycat eyes.” Finally, she spotted him. He was sat on the roof of the school building, next to a chimney, so that it blocked him from the view of the crowd but still gave him a good view of the stage.

She glared straight at him. “Pussycat, pussycat I love you, yes, I dooo. You and your pussycat eyes.”

If grins could eat shit, Chat Noir’s would be munching on elephant dung.

As she repeated the Godawful chorus once again, she could see him mouthing along with the lyrics, fake-conducting with his finger.

 “Pussycat, pussycat, you’re delicious and if my wishes can all come through, I’ll soon be kissing your sweet little pussycat lips.” Oh she’ll be kissing him alright. Kissing him with a fist.

“Pussycat, pussycat, I love you, you and your pussycat lips.” Marinette could see him fake swooning and rolled her eyes. Honestly, this song was perfect for his self-indulgent ego.

“You and your pussycat eyes, you and your pussy cat…nose!” She held the last note for just barely as long as it needed to be and ran off the stage as the applause started up, face burning hot red.

She only faintly heard Nino say “And that was Marinette Dupain-Cheng playing What’s New Pussycat by Tom Jones!” as she was already halfway off the school campus. No way was she staying for the rest of the show to bask in her humiliation.

Back in her house, Marinette opened the door to her bedroom to find that Chat had beaten her there.

“Princess, why didn’t you mention before that you loved me? We could have had our own kittens by now,” he said with an exaggerated pout.

“Oh, fuck off,” she threw her fake ears at him. And considering how muscled she was from being Ladybug, those things packed a punch.

“Ow!” he raised his arms in defense, giggling.

“You deserve it! I won’t be able to look anyone at school in the eye for months.” She dramatically flopped face down into bed. “I should never have doubted your cavernous stomach.”

“That you should not have, Princess,” he said, chuckling. Truthfully, he had doubted himself earlier. The first were easy to scarf down. Between fencing, hopping on rooftops, and being a growing teenage boy in general, Adrien could, and would, eat multiple helpings, given the chance. However, he’d had to fake his vibrato after the first dozen and climbing up and down the Eiffel Tower on a full stomach was more difficult than he made it look. He was close to throwing up too many times to count.

The only thing getting him through the last two dozen was the image of Marinette dressed up in his costume singing the most ridiculous cat-related song he knew. He’d most likely been scared off croissants for the rest of his life, but listening to Marinette sing that she loved her pussycat while simultaneously giving him the most intimidating death glare you can give with cat whiskers drawn on your face was completely worth it.

He started giggling again at the memory.

“Shut up,” she groaned, and rolled onto her back. “Well there’s one silver lining to this,” she continued, staring at the ceiling.

“Oh?” he snickered.

“Adrien didn’t see me. At least I’ll have _some_ semblance of dignity around him.”

For some reason this only made him laugh harder.

**Author's Note:**

> In case you couldn't tell, I wrote this at 2AM. I am so sorry. It's also probably not nearly as funny as I think it is, but you can be the judge of that.
> 
> Thanks, as always, to my poor editor Libertarian_Firelord, who has to deal with all of my crazy ideas. 
> 
> This may or may not become part of a more elaborate series. We'll see.


End file.
